


all the stars

by godofmorons



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, F/F, Minor Paralogue Spoilers, Pre-Relationship, annette and mercedes are the best wingmen, dorothea and ingrid talk about marriage and how society failed them, everyone lowkey has a crush on ingrid and that's just that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 15:33:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20659523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godofmorons/pseuds/godofmorons
Summary: “Will you meet me there then?”Ingrid’s cheeks grow warm again as she meets Dorothea’s eyes. “Pardon?”“Will you meet me at the Goddess Tower tonight?” Dorothea asks again, her eyes sparkling.





	all the stars

**Author's Note:**

> [♫](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vdXsLt0o_9g)   
_This maybe the night that my dreams might let me know_   
_All the stars are closer, all the stars are closer, all the stars are closer_
> 
> thank you [ethereally](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ethereally) for holding my hand and telling me this didn't suck.

"You know, Miss Galatea, dancing is very much like fighting."

Ingrid, age 10 (and a half), bit down the impatient retort on the tip of her tongue. She had little interest in learning how to make an impression in a ballroom- she needed to concentrate on training, if she was going to have any hope of keeping up with Glenn, Felix, and Dimitri. No matter how many times she explained this to her father, however, he simply ruffled her hair and insisted she still learn what it meant to be a noblewoman.

Which meant beginning to learn all the steps to all the dances she would be expected to know in a ballroom.

It was aggravating.

Nevertheless, she knew how to mind her manners; she couldn't throw tantrums anymore. So Ingrid smiled politely and asked, in her best impression of her mother's tone when people bored her with gossip, "Oh? How so?"

(Unbeknownst to her, her instructor nearly doubled over with laughter at the expression on her face. Ingrid could not have looked more unimpressed if she had tried.)

"Your swordsmanship lessons require you to learn different stances and positions, correct?"

Ingrid nodded slowly, a frown on her face.

"Dancing is one and the same. Both require agility and coordination. Just as you must learn where to move your feet and your body when you fight with a sword or lance, you too learn how to move across the dance floor."

Her face brightened with understanding. "So you're saying that by learning to dance, I can improve the way I fight?"

Her instructor smiled. "Precisely!"

There is a pause, before a determined expression crossed Ingrid's face. "Very well. I’m ready to begin the lesson, please.”

"It would be my pleasure, milady.”

-

“Ingrid, please, you _have_ to stop flinching!”

Ingrid can’t help but wince; Annette doesn’t have much in the way of volume control, but Ingrid knows that she means well. Annette is probably just worried she’s going to accidentally poke Ingrid’s eye out-- and Ingrid would be lying if she said that that wasn’t part of the reason why she kept shrinking away from Annette’s hand.

“You have to be gentle, Annie,” Mercedes chides her from behind Ingrid; she’s doing something to Ingrid’s hair that pulls at her head, but it feels nice, and would honestly have Ingrid falling asleep in her seat if it wasn’t for Annette’s constant badgering to apply more makeup to her face.

“I _am_ being gentle!” Annette huffs, and Ingrid has to stop herself from giggling at the pair. As much as she loves Felix and Dimitri (and yes, even Sylvain), she often finds herself wishing she had grown up with friends like Mercedes and Annette; it would have been nice to have other girls in her childhood.

“So, Ingrid,” Mercedes begins, her voice soft as she smooths another strand of Ingrid’s hair into place. “Is there anyone in particular you’re looking forward to dancing with at the ball?”

Ingrid smiles. “No, I don’t think I’ll be doing that much dancing, I’m not very good at it. I mostly just want to see my friends, and try out all the food they’ll have.” She waits a beat, and then sighs. “Hopefully Sylvain will behave himself for once.”

Annette stops what she’s doing to cackle. “The look on your face just now was priceless!”

“Oh dear, I missed it.” Mercedes hums, before continuing, saying, “Well, I certainly hope you’re not planning on being a wallflower all night. There are quite a few people looking forward to dancing with you.”

Ingrid blinks; ordinarily, she would be overwhelmed with anxiety at the thought of having to impress potential suitors. Instead, she finds she’s only mildly surprised by Mercedes’ remark.

“Oh? And who might they be?” She glances at Annette’s face, and catches The Look she’s exchanging with Mercedes over Ingrid’s head. Why does she look so… mischievous? What do these two know that Ingrid doesn’t?

“Well, if I told you, that would ruin all the fun, wouldn’t it?” Ingrid can hear the smile in Mercedes’ voice. “Just promise you’ll save a dance for me?”

“And me! We’re looking forward to dancing with you too, you know!” Annette chimes in, beaming. “I think I’m done, by the way!”

“I just finished as well.” There is one last tug, and then Mercedes is standing beside Annette, scrutinizing their handiwork. Ingrid can’t stop herself from fidgeting under their stares.

“Well…?”

In tandem, they both smile. “You look _amazing._”

-

Upon arriving at the ball, Ingrid is relieved she came arm-in-arm with Annette and Mercedes; it’s crowded with every student and teacher in the Officer’s Academy, and Ingrid has to fight down the urge to turn tail and run. Her father did not raise a coward, however; Ingrid takes a deep breath, and follows Annette and Mercedes into the crowd. She couldn’t ditch now- Raphael had promised to save her a plate at the buffet, after all.

“Oh look, Claude’s dancing with the professor!” Annette squeals, hopping up and down on the tips of her toes to see over the heads of the other students. Ingrid is trying not to laugh when someone taps on her shoulder. She turns to find Sylvain, and she’s immediately on guard.

“What did you do?”

“Hey now! Is that any way to greet an old friend?” Sylvain asks, all smiles, and Ingrid’s hackles only continue to rise.

“You never seek me out unless you need me to fix something.”

A look crosses his face- a blink and you’ll miss it flash of… guilt? “I swear, I haven’t done anything to earn your ire this time.” The cheeky grin returns, and he bows to her in an example of over-exaggerated showmanship. “I was just wondering if I might have this dance?”

Ingrid hesitates for only a second, before she lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. But if I find out you’re only asking because you’re using me to hide from some girl you’ve angered, then so help me Sylvain---”

“Ingrid, I promise. I just want a dance. That’s all.” He links his arm through her own, and she begrudgingly follows him onto the dance floor.

“Do you even remember how to dance?” Sylvain asks with a grin, and Ingrid has to stop herself from sighing again.

“Yes, how could I forget? I had my dance lessons drilled into me, same as my lance and riding training.” She places one hand on his shoulder, and the other hand in his own. She notes how careful he is to keep his hand at her waist and not a degree higher or lower. “I don’t want to hear a peep out of you if I accidentally step on your toes, though.”

“My lips are sealed.” He winks at her, and she smiles reluctantly at him. “I’m honestly surprised to see you here tonight,” Sylvain continues, as he slowly begins to lead them across the dance floor. “I remember back in Faerghus, your father would have to beg and plead with you to attend even the smallest of parties.”

Ingrid purses her lips. “Because it was always the same tired routine after Glenn died. I would have to know the names of every eligible bachelor attending, his likes and dislikes, his hobbies, his family tree… It was exhausting.”

“Ah, right.” There is an awkward silence that settles between the two of them; Ingrid gets the feeling he’s kicking himself for bringing up bad memories. She decides to throw him a bone.

“You’ve always loved these sorts of things though, haven’t you?”

Sylvain looks up at her, shit-eating grin on his face. “Well, you know me Ingrid, I love my balls!"

…

“… Goodbye, Sylvain." Ingrid starts to pull her hand out of his, and Sylvain is immediately contrite.

"No, wait, please, I take it back, it was a dumb joke, I'm sorry---“

She glares up at him. “You’re not sorry.”

He grins again. “You’re right, I’m not.”

_Goddess, give me strength._

They continue to banter their way across the dance floor, earning more than a few glances and giggles as they pass the other couples. When the song finally comes to an end, Sylvain bows to her once more, smiling as he says, “Thank you ever so much for the dance, Miss Galatea.”

Ingrid lets out a most unladylike snort as she curtsies deeply in return. “And thank _you_ for asking _me_, Mister Gautier. The pleasure was all mine.”

“No no, I assure you,” and here, Sylvain leans in a little closer, his smile cheeky but his expression earnest, “The pleasure was entirely mine.”

He turns suddenly on his heel and strides off, disappearing into the crowd, and Ingrid can only shake her head as she tries not to smile at his retreating back. That… had probably been his own way of helping her relax. Sylvain was a lot of things, but Ingrid had to admit that sometimes, he could be a good friend.

Okay, before she did anything else, she really needed to go find Raphael. He may have promised to save her a plate, but if she left him waiting for too long he was liable to eat whatever he had set aside for her---

“Ingrid!”

She startles, whirling around to find Annette fast approaching her, a beaming smile on the other girl’s face. “There you are! I was looking everywhere for you. I was just watching Claude and the professor dance, and then the next thing I know, you and Mercie were gone!”

Ingrid winces. “Ah, sorry Annette, I was pulled away for a dance--”

At this, Annette practically lunges forward to grab Ingrid’s hands in her own. “OOH! Who with, who with?” Her eyes are sparkling with interest, which gives Ingrid cause to frown slightly in confusion. Annette was usually eager by nature, but this seemed excessive even by her standards.

“Sylvain?” Ingrid offers lamely, and Annette instantly deflates.

“Aw, okay. I mean, not that he isn’t nice, I’m sure he was a perfectly nice dance partner, he _was_ a perfectly nice dance partner, right? Or so help me I’ll fight him, I swear--”

“He was a perfectly nice dance partner, don’t worry.” Ingrid can barely stop herself from grinning at the idea of the tiny Annette beating up the comparatively giant Sylvain. It would be like watching a little Pomeranian picking a fight with a golden retriever.

“Oh. Well, good!” Annette holds their hands up in front of them, her usual smile reappearing on her face. “Anyway, Ingrid! We should dance together now!”

“Umm, sure---” Ingrid barely has time to agree before Annette is pulling her back out onto the dance floor, turning to face Ingrid with a bright smile. “Do you want to lead? I can try leading, but Mercie usually leads when we dance together, so I’m probably not going to be very good.”

Ingrid bites back a smile. “I’m okay with leading, though I apologize if I’m not very good either.” She places a hand on Annette’s waist, her other hand gently twining their fingers together. Annette seems to flush at that, but before Ingrid could wonder why, she places her hand on Ingrid’s shoulder.

“Okay, lead the way!”

This time, Ingrid allows herself to smile. “As you wish.”

Annette is not a particularly _skilled_ dancer. Not to say that she’s bad; she’s just clumsy, and what she lacks in natural grace she more than makes up for in enthusiasm. It’s easy to forgive her when she misses a step when she’s laughing so cheerfully the entire time. Where dancing with Sylvain is easy and familiar, dancing with Annette is joyful and lively.

When the song ends and they curtsy to each other, Ingrid is almost sorry it’s over.

“That was so much fun! If you’re feeling up to it, we should dance together again later, okay?” Annette is beaming at her, and Ingrid returns the smile with one of her own.

“Maybe if I’m not too tired. See you!” She waves goodbye to Annette, who dashes off yelling something about finding Hilda. Okay, now it was time to stuff her face--

“Oh, hello Ingrid!”

She turns to find Mercedes walking towards her, soft smile ever-present on her face. “You and Annette seemed to be having fun out there.”

Ingrid laughs out loud as she replies, “I was supposed to be leading, but it felt like I was the one trying to keep up with Annette the entire time.”

Mercedes nods in understanding, before reaching out to take Ingrid’s hand in her own. “Now, I hope you didn’t have _too_ much fun, because I really would like to have that dance with you now, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, Mercedes, it’d be my pleasure,” Ingrid replies, hoping her disappointment doesn’t show on her face. She’s too polite to say no, but she really was looking forward to the feast…

As if reading her mind, Mercedes giggles as she says, a teasing lilt in her voice, “Don’t worry, I promise it’ll be over before you know it!”

Ingrid flushes at being so easily read like this. “I’m sorry. I promise I really do want to dance with you.” And she means it, with all her heart. 

Mercedes hums as she places her hand on Ingrid’s waist, her fingers lacing with Ingrid’s other hand. “I know that, silly.” She smiles down at Ingrid. “Ready?”

It is now Ingrid’s turn to blush bright red as she places her hand on Mercedes’ shoulder. “Ready.”

Dancing with Mercedes is gentle. It’s almost as if the two of them are floating across the floor, it’s so smooth and elegant. Ingrid finds it easy to lose herself in the steps of the dance as she follows Mercedes’ lead.

“Tell me Ingrid, do you have plans to meet anyone at the Goddess Tower tonight?” Mercedes asks, a knowing smile on her lips that has Ingrid wondering what secrets she was hiding.

“No, I’m actually getting pretty tired. I’ll probably go find Raphael and then call it a night.”

“Ah, I see. That’s too bad, there was someone who really wanted to meet you there…” Mercedes looks like the cat that caught the canary, and Ingrid frowns.

“You keep hinting at this mysterious person... who is it?”

Just as Mercedes opens her mouth to answer, however---

“Mind if I cut in?”

Their dance is brought to a stop, as they both turn in tandem to find Dorothea smiling at the two of them. “Hello Dorothea. I was just thinking it might be nice to go find Annie… unless Ingrid minds?” Mercedes is looking at her with the same soft smile, but Ingrid can’t shake the feeling that the older girl is plotting something. She just has no idea what it could be.

“No, I don’t mind. I’d be happy to dance with you, Dorothea.” The words are barely off of Ingrid’s lips when Mercedes twirls her into Dorothea’s arms, curtsying with a beaming smile as she begins to wander through the other dancing couples.

“Have fun you two!” She calls over her shoulder, completely oblivious to the state she has left Ingrid in-- she’s pressed up a little too close to Dorothea, almost flush with the other girl’s body that has her blushing in embarrassment.

“Ah- I’m so sorry--” Ingrid quickly takes a step back, giving both herself and Dorothea some room to breathe. Dorothea giggles in reply, booping Ingrid on the nose as she places a hand on Ingrid’s waist.

“No need to apologize, my darling Ingrid! I’m just so happy I finally managed to find you. I was worried all those stories Sylvain told me about you crawling out windows to escape parties were true!”

Ingrid’s brow twitches. “He told you _what?_”

Dorothea freezes, before laughing- even Ingrid could tell it was forced. “Oops, nevermind. Come, let’s dance our troubles away, shall we?” She winks, holding up their joined hands. Ingrid glances at their intertwined fingers, weighing her desire to dance with Dorothea versus tracking down Sylvain and interrogating him on what kind of stories he was spreading about her.

She shakes her head as she places her hand on Dorothea’s shoulder. “Please.” She smiles up at Dorothea, and Dorothea beams in return.

Ingrid knew that Dorothea was a famed songstress back in the Empire, but she was just as skilled a dancer as she was a singer. Her movements were so confident, her every step self-assured, but somehow, it didn’t feel like she was putting on a performance. It was easy for Ingrid to forget that anyone else was in the room; it felt like it was just two of them.

“You’re a wonderful dancer, Dorothea.” Ingrid glances up at her face, and finds a hint of pink rising high on Dorothea’s cheeks.

“Why thank you! I had some training here and there back in Enbarr, but I haven’t really had the opportunity to put my skills to use since coming here.” Dorothea meets Ingrid’s eyes, before quickly glancing away again. “You’re quite good yourself! Besides Mercedes, who else have you danced with tonight?”

“Just Annette and Sylvain.” She feels a throb in the soles of her feet and winces. “I think I might be done after this, though. I’m really not cut out for this sort of thing…”

“Oh my, so I’m your last dance? I’m honored, my dearest Ingrid.” Dorothea winks down at her, and now it’s Ingrid’s turn to avert her gaze.

“Yes, well, Mercedes kept mentioning someone who was eager to dance with me, but I suppose they’re out of luck.” She frowns. “I wonder if they’re the same as the person who wanted to meet me at the top of the Goddess Tower?”

Dorothea, curiously enough, seems to stiffen at this, before laughing a little too loudly. Ingrid frowns and cocks her head to the side, puzzled. “Yes, well, I suppose they are, aren’t they! Speaking of the Goddess Tower, though, I take it you don’t have any plans to meet anyone there?”

Ingrid shakes her head, a frown creasing her brow. “No. It’s against the rules to enter the Goddess Tower, after all. Even if it’s a tradition, I could never do something like that.”

Dorothea looks like she’s trying to hold back another laugh as she leans in to stage whisper, “Ingrid, they don’t post guards outside the Goddess Tower tonight because they _want_ students to go to the top to make a wish together.”

Ingrid blinks at this; it had never occurred to her to question why there was a lack of guards around the monastery tonight. What Dorothea was saying made sense, in that case...

She shakes her head. “Well, regardless. Nobody asked me, and I didn’t ask anybody.” Ingrid shrugs. “I’m probably going to gorge myself on whatever food is left and then go to bed.”

Dorothea actually stumbles, catching Ingrid entirely off guard. She recovers quickly, though she still wears a shocked expression on her face as she gapes at Ingrid.

“_Nobody_ asked you? I- Are you serious?”

For some reason, Ingrid’s cheeks heat up at how indignant Dorothea appears to be. “Yes? No one asked me, so…” Was it that strange, not being asked? 

There is a pause, as she and Dorothea continue to dance across the reception hall together. And then---

“Will you meet me there then?”

Ingrid’s cheeks grow warm again as she meets Dorothea’s eyes. “Pardon?”

“Will you meet me at the Goddess Tower tonight?” Dorothea asks again, her eyes sparkling.

“I---” Ingrid swallows; if what Dorothea had said was true, and they wouldn’t get in trouble for climbing the Goddess Tower, then surely there would be no harm meeting Dorothea there, right...? And she most certainly wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. 

Finally, she nods. “Okay. Count me in!” It is then that Ingrid’s stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud gurgle. “... Do you mind if I grab some food first, though?” She asks, in a tiny voice, that makes Dorothea giggle.

“Of course my dear!” She winks as she boops Ingrid on the nose, letting go of her waist to step back and curtsy. “I’ll see you later, then!”

Ingrid flusters, glancing around to find that the song is already over-- she had completely lost track of where they were in the dance. “Yes, see you later.” Ingrid gives Dorothea a clumsy curtsy; it suddenly feels like there are weights attached to her feet.

Dorothea grins before she vanishes into a wall of students. Ingrid watches her go before turning on her heel.

Okay, _now_ it was time to stuff her face.

-

True to Dorothea’s word, there were no guards stationed around the cathedral. Still, even the thought that she might be breaking the rules had Ingrid glancing over her shoulder, waiting for a knight’s shout to stop her from continuing any further. No shouts came, however, and Ingrid hurried down the walkway towards the Goddess Tower, her path lit by torchlight. The chill of the Ethereal Moon at Garreg Mach was nothing compared to the winters in Faerghus, but still, Ingrid would prefer not to stay out in the wind and cold any longer than necessary.

At least this would be a good workout after all that food she ate at the ball. Ingrid slowly climbs the winding steps of the tower, and her breaths are coming out in puffs of white the higher she climbs; has the tower always been this high? Maybe she was more winded from all that dancing than she thought... 

Ingrid reaches the top, and pushes open the door to the rooftop to find Dorothea waiting for her, a warm smile on her face that lights up the cold, bitter night.

“Ingrid! You came!” Dorothea is smiling, and Ingrid finds herself smiling back.

“Of course I did, you invited me.” Ingrid steps forward, her eyes glancing up at the sea of glittering stars above their heads. They seem close enough to touch- as if all she had to do was reach out her hand and she could catch a star on her fingertip. It’s a breathtaking view, one that almost makes her want to mount her pegasus and take off flying into the endless night sky.

“Wow.”

There’s a giggle, and Ingrid snaps out of her stupor. Blushing, she looks back down at Dorothea, who is beaming in pure, unadulterated delight. “Your expression just now- it was so cute, Ingrid!”

Her blush deepens, as she can’t help but glance back up at the sky again. “It’s just- it’s so pretty. I can’t help but be inspired by it all, you know?”

There is a pause, before Dororthea replies, a smile in her voice. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Ingrid takes another step forward, walking out onto the balcony. The wind nips at her face as she leans against the railing, but she doesn’t notice as she picks familiar constellations out the sky. “The stars are always prettiest during the Ethereal Moon, don’t you think?”

“Mmm, I know what you mean.” There is warmth at Ingrid’s side, as Dorothea stands beside her. (Not too close, but not too far, either.) She’s also watching the sky, a faint smile on her face. “Can you believe it’s already been two moons since we stopped that horrible man from marrying you?”

Ah, the noble of rising status. Ingrid frowns at the memory: of the oppressing heat of Ailell bearing down on them as they fought tooth and nail through the merchant’s hired goons. “No, it feels like it was so long ago at this point. So much has happened since then...” She shakes her head, allowing her words to trail off as she fixes her eyes back on the sky above them.

Dorothea hums. “Have you had any other prospective marriage proposals since then?”

She shakes her head. “Plenty, though I’ve turned them all down.”

The silence seems to stretch for miles between them. Dorothea breaks it, with a soft sigh.

“You know, Ingrid, I’ve always been a little jealous of you.”

Ingrid blinks in surprise, turning to face Dorothea fully. “Really?” She asks, stunned; beautiful, talented Dorothea was jealous of _her?_ This must be some mistake, or a poor attempt at a joke.

Dorothea smiles ruefully, carefully avoiding Ingrid’s gaze as she nods, curtly. “Really. We’re in similar situations, you and I. We both have to marry for survival... I have to marry for my own survival, while you have to marry for the survival of your family and territory.”

“It’s not quite the same. But… it’s not so different either, is it?”

Ingrid nods, slowly, watching Dorothea’s face as it flickers through a number of emotions; anger, hurt, sadness. She waits patiently as Dorothea finds the words she wants to say, her heart beating a tattoo against her chest in anticipation of her next words.

There is a deep, shuddering breath. And then: “You... have so many proposals to choose from, all hand picked by your father. All the hard work of finding suitable matches is done for you, while I…” She shakes her head, her smile sad and her eyes so very, very distant. “I’m sorry. I’m being unfair. Forget I said anything.”

Ingrid’s brow furrows at that; she, too, lets the quiet grow between them, wringing her fingers as she mulls over what she wants to say. “No, it’s okay. It’s… actually funny that you say that, Dorothea, because truth be told, I’m… a little jealous of you, as well.” She smiles as the other girl whirls around to stare at her, eyes wide with shock. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s true!”

Dorothea is smiling-- it’s the kind that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. It breaks Ingrid’s heart a little. “Come now Ingrid, there’s no need to say such things just to make me feel better-”

“I’m telling the truth.” Ingrid says, her eyes meeting Dorothea’s. All her life, she has been told that she wears her heart on her sleeve; she hopes that now, her sincerity shows in her voice and on her face.

She hesitates for only a moment, before pushing forward. “I know you’ve had a hard time at the academy... People can be cruel with the rumors they spread. But I think you’re incredible. You’re taking your fate in your own hands, and that’s admirable, no matter what anyone else says.” She grips her hands together, squeezing her fingers tightly. “In comparison, I…”

Ingrid thinks back to the crumpled up letters in her waste basket; to her father, who saddled her with the responsibility of saving all of Galatea when she wasn’t even old enough to walk, let alone speak for herself. Her nails bite into the palm of her hands- she takes a shaky breath.

“I admit that I’ve had it easier than you, and many others as well. But… but in the end, marriage isn’t a choice for me, it’s an expectation.” Her gaze is unwavering as she speaks to Dorothea, her smile melancholic. “It’s not something either of us really want, is it?”

There is silence between them once more, as Ingrid gathers her thoughts and Dorothea purses her lips.

“It’s not fair, is what it is. Why should I have to marry in order to stay off the streets? And why should _you_ have to marry just to keep a roof over your family’s head?” She sounds so angry, on both her own behalf and Ingrid’s, and the knight can only laugh weakly in response. It… was nice, talking to someone who understood. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of Ingrid’s heart.

She smiles as she stares back up at the stars.

“I hate this.”

She has never said that before; she’s never even admitted it to herself, or anyone else, for that matter. It felt like something she wasn’t allowed to feel, with everything her father has done for her, all the sacrifices her family has made for her sake, and all the hopes of Galatea riding on her shoulders. All depending on her… But not for her skill or her strength. It was all for who she marries. Giving up on her dreams for the sake of others. Her worth, tied entirely to whoever she takes as her husband. She hated it, and again, it felt like another weight had been lifted off her heart; years and years worth of weights, having denied it to herself for so long.

Dorothea is laughing, and it’s such a nice sound-- it echoes through the night, warms Ingrid up inside and out. “I hate it too.” She sounds… tired, but she’s smiling, and Ingrid wants to believe that maybe she, too, feels like a weight has been lifted. It’s what she’d like to believe, anyway.

The lull this time is comfortable, as they stare out across the horizon. Ingrid’s eyes flicker to Dorothea, wondering what she’s thinking about. She shakes her head, her eyes wandering back up to pick out the Shepherd’s Star high in the heavens above; it was the brightest star in the sky, a symbol for weary souls and lost travelers.

“Do you know what you would do in the future, if you didn’t have to worry about money ever again?” She asks softly, her hands gripping the balcony railing as she looks back down at Dorothea.

It’s sad, how long it takes Dorothea to find her answer. “I… I would continue to sing, I think.” She sounds so hesitant; she glances at Ingrid, who nods encouragingly. “I’d travel across the Empire, and then the Kingdom, maybe the Alliance too… I’d want everyone in Fódlan to hear my voice. And maybe even beyond Fódlan, too.”

Ingrid smiles. “That’s a nice dream. I think you should hold onto it. We shouldn’t give up on our futures, or stop chasing our dreams, just because the odds are against us.”

Dorothea chuckles at that. “You should listen to your own advice sometime, Ingrid.” She’s grinning, and Ingrid… realizes she may be right. _Oh._

Before Ingrid could mull on this any further, Dorothea continues, stretching her arms over her head with a sigh. “It’s silly… I asked you here so that we could make a wish together, but instead we started talking about marriage and futures… I’m sorry, Ingrid.” The look in her eyes is… distant, as Dorothea stares up at the heavens above. “I don’t… actually believe in the goddess. She’s never done much for me, you know?”

Ingrid thinks of Glenn, and stays silent.

Dorothea sighs again. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… is that I don’t think making a wish here tonight will make it come true. Only we can shape our own futures, but we also don’t have anything to lose by trying to wish for a little extra help.” Dorothea is looking at Ingrid with something akin to hope in her eyes; it makes her look so much younger, and Ingrid briefly wonders what it would have been like to have just lived out their teenage years as actual teenagers, instead of glorified child soldiers. “So shall we make a wish together, Ingrid? For our futures?”

Ingrid… is not one for wishes. She would rather make her dreams a reality through hard work and sheer force of will. And yet...

She smiles. “I’ll gladly make a wish with you, Dorothea.”

Dorothea's smile is relieved. “Really? Great! Well then, shall we?”

Wasting no time, Dorothea turns back to face the open sky. She bows her head in reverence, the same way she does when she attends choir practice. Ingrid quickly follows suit, clasping her hands in front of her, closing her eyes, and… turning her face back up towards the sky.

The goddess supposedly lives on one of those stars. Ingrid is not a particularly devout follower. Everything in her life is a result of getting back up again every time she fell, not because of some miracle. Even her crest, considered by many a divine gift, is at best a tool to be used, and at worst an obstacle to overcome. She believes in herself, far more than she will ever believe in a goddess who ignores the suffering of her children.

But still, she can’t deny that to many, the goddess is a source of salvation. She may not have done anything for Ingrid, but she has done so much for so many others.

Ingrid couldn’t think of anything to wish for, however; she felt like she didn’t need to ask the goddess for anything. She peeks an eye open to glance at Dorothea. Her head was still bowed, her brow furrowed in concentration. Dorothea had said she doesn’t believe in the goddess, and yet…

Ingrid smiles slightly to herself, before closing her eyes again.

_Dear goddess, please… hear Dorothea’s prayers, and make_ her _wish come true._

**Author's Note:**

> hi, thanks for reading! i almost didn't finish this fic because i got to the balls joke and realized i had peaked.


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